


Study Break

by Wulvercazz



Category: Bleach
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, One-Shot, PWP, b grimm, lots of teasing, no beta we die like men, porn with a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:08:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wulvercazz/pseuds/Wulvercazz
Summary: Ichigo needs a break— Grimmjow doesn’t care.
Relationships: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 138





	Study Break

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a 5 twit small thread idea— and somehow became this lil one-shot. 
> 
> It was written in an insomniac daze so it may not be that great lmao~

Grimmjow was laying on his stomach, deep in a random book from Ichigo’s shelf —completely ignoring Ichigo— it was not on purpose at first; the damn book was actually interesting for once. He was truly invested in the story this time, even if he still had troubles with a few human terms.

He was soon lazily reading, face half hidden into Ichigo’s pillow; occupying almost all his bed.

It was fine; Ichigo was studying or whatever he did most his boring weekday afternoons— they would spar again in a few days. They did so every weekend, without fail. That was the deal; he let Ichigo work mindlessly as much as he wanted but the weekend he was “all his” as Ichigo put it.

In complete disregard of his surroundings, Grimmjow continued with the story. It was always the same— Ichigo nose deep into four different books— the large and boring ones that he calls ‘textbooks’. 

If he was human he wouldn’t have caught it, as immersed as he was on the pages— the low whine akin to a dying animal that came from the general direction of the desk. So it was one of _those_ days, huh? 

Whatever; Ichigo would whine a bit, probably get up for a snack— maybe a quick shower and eventually come back to his usual spot, a lot less whiny and fidgety, to finish his self-inflicted torture.

He paid it no mind— or at least tried to until the whines became louder, he frowned; trying to concentrate. 

“What?” he muttered, eyes still glued to the book, despite not quite reading anymore; couldn’t let Ichigo feel that important.

He heard him exhale tiredly, shuffle a bit with his books, it sounded hesitant. “I need a break,” 

Cool, overstatement of the year; why should he care? Grimmjow was about to speak his mind when Ichigo finished in a lower voice, “and a distraction...”

It almost sounded like a hidden meaning— but he didn’t get it, and he wasn’t about to ask— so he didn’t care.

He tried reading his book again— Ichigo made him promise he wouldn’t bother him while he was studying— so he could deal on his own. Yes, he was being petty. Sue him.

“Grimm—“ came another whine, very heavy on the ‘m’s.He tried really hard not to roll his eyes back into his skull; keep reading— he’d go away eventually, choose a shower over annoying him.

He read the same stupid line for the tenth time— but he didn’t mutter a word. Let the berry cry a bit more.

The next thing, however, was silence; it was slightly disappointing, honestly. He sorta wanted the little game to keep going; guess whatever Ichigo wanted wasn’t that important in the end.

He moved on to the next line— finally, his attention back in the book. 

And he must’ve really lost himself to the story, because one moment he was witnessing the Count’s building revenge and the next his heart was stopping and his skin felt like jumping off his bones in surprise.

What the ever flying _fuck_ was that— oof.

Something was trying to suffocate him in his soft gigai— Ichigo had thrown his heavy ass on top of him!

Chest on his back and hips to hips. Using him as a mattress no less, the little shit.

He growled lowly under his breath; then Ichigo whined again— oh, so he was still playing? Fine, he could play too. As gruff as he looked he could be _very_ patient; he just didn’t choose to most the time.

“Grimm—“ Ichigo, on the other hand, was not.

He almost let out a chuckle, this was so easy.

He returned to his book; as much as one could with a redhead on their back. 

Ichigo was pretty still for the time being, just resting on top of him— maybe this was what he wanted? No. He wouldn’t keep up the needy energy if that was so— doe eyes was just calculating his next move.

He could almost hear the tired cogs turning, and the letters on the page said nothing to him anymore; he was waiting for his next move. The book in his hands was a mere shield for his true interest in the matter. A pretense of disinterest.

He tried actually reading again, Ichigo was taking too long. Huh, these words seemed familiar, maybe he’d already read this one particular sentence.

The next one was partially familiar, what exactly had been happening before all this happened? Oh, yeah, revenge—

A pressure, mostly a poke.

Oh— ‘ _a distraction’_.

Grimmjow bit his cheek, swallowing a bark of laughter. Oh this was much better. So much fucking better. Fucking delicious.

Oh, he was going to enjoy this thoroughly.

He held his book tighter, his shield and weapon, and pushed his hips back— just a little, just barely. He could feel Ichigo clear as day, hard and nestled between his clothed ass cheeks.

He also heard the sharp breath intake, and felt the little shudder that ran from the ginger’s chest to his stomach. For such a blushing squirmy guy, Ichigo could sure be a horny little bastard.

“Grimmjow?” was the pitiful whisper breathed against the back of his neck. He didn’t budge, pretending to read the same paragraph from five minutes ago. “Grimm, please-!”

Oh he wouldn’t budge that easy. The hardest thing right now was probably holding back his laughter; and maybe Ichigo’s dick.

He felt him exhale an annoyed breath, that worked up already, huh? He could work with that. A small shuffle of his body, just fixing his position, nothing else. A little wiggle of his hips and a thigh spread a little wider, just a bit, just enough for Ichigo’s hips to press flusher against his ass.

The little unsatisfied moan was like a victory song. Small win, but a win nevertheless.

“What are you reading, anyway?” He knew for a fact Ichigo wasn’t actually interested in knowing, more invested in changing the subject to less humiliating matters. 

He didn’t answer, he would’ve believed the little nonchalant ploy if the hardness poking at his behind hadn’t been such a snitch.

Ichigo shuffled once more, working on an irritated huff at being ignored; arms that had been formerly framing his sides now came up and around his head, trying to grab for the book.

Grimmjow just held it farther away; thankful of his longer arms and wider frame stopping Ichigo short just a tiny bit from its reach. He immediately deflated, more petulant child than twice world hero; or was it three times?

Whatever he did next seemed to spark an idea in the ginger, as fingers started snaking back up to touch his wrists. Not reaching forward anymore, that plan had been fully discarded of; just sort of lingering there. It was nice feeling, if easily brushed off.

He brought the book closer once more, confident it wouldn’t risk being snatched away anymore. Ichigo’s fingers still danced on his skin, slowly tracing patterns along the inside of his wrist and trailing down towards his elbows.

Really? Seduction?

Ichigo must be truly desperate.

“I already said sorry; besides, exams are almost over, in a few days I’m all yours...” his voice was soft, there was far less irritation showing through than he expected.

But he still didn’t spare him a word, not even a flinch.

“Are you going to keep ignoring me?” 

Yup.

“...Fine,” he breathed out lazily, much more in. control than he appeared just a few minutes ago. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I just... did whatever I pleased, right?”

A shrug was all he got. It seemed enough.

“Good.”

The book in his hands might as well have had blank pages at this point— he was too busy trying to one up Ichigo on whatever scheme he thought he’d play him with to even try to read. Yet his eyes stayed glued to the pages; like a crouching cat, ready to pounce at the first movement.

Ichigo barely continued with the lazy patterns, far up his shoulders now but still pretty easy to tune out. 

Then the tracing followed the contour of his trapezius, his jaw, his cheekbones; and, eventually, both hands took a strong grip on his hair. Giving a sharp tug that broke off his blank stare on the page and almost caused a tiny moan to bubble up in his throat.

Ichigo breathed into his ear, “you can’t ignore me forever, either way.” The lower pitched almost inaudible exhale of words causing a sharp tingle to run down his spine.

If Ichigo could see his face, it’d be over.

His hair was smoothed through already by the time he regained his composure, sneaky tan hands now nowhere to be seen.

Go back to reading; that wasn’t even a little setback, he just caught him by surprise. It wouldn’t happen again.

Oh—there they were— faint little finger taps along his ribs, drumming their way downwards and attaching firmly to his waist. The hot air blowing softly at the back of his neck turned into a nose and warm lips ghosting over the pale skin. 

Not enough.

Ichigo’s hips moved forward again, pushing his hard-on further between his cheeks; or as much as the soft pants he was wearing allowed.

Was he really just planning on rubbing it off on him? Grimmjow didn’t want to feel disappointed, and yet...

“You’re a fucking tease,” in his own discontent he’d almost missed the words spoken against his back. “You lay here every day while I study, wearing these flimsy pants tight around your perfectly round ass; and expect me not to get distracted.”

Long fingers pinched his asscheeks as if to prove a point, crotch still rocking back and forth, nestled nicely in-between and adding just enough pressure on his own trapped dick.

“I could just rub it off on you,” another push, “but that’s not what you want, is it?”

Grimmjow could just frown deeper, close his jaw tighter; anything to keep the breathy moan that threatened to leave his throat.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” Ichigo’s fingertips traced the hem of his pants, “that you haven’t finished reading a single line in the past ten minutes?”

The fingers slid inside, pulling gently on the elastic, “that your heart rate increases every time I speak?” Ichigo pushed his hips up and the pants halfway down; his underwear-free ass exposed to Ichigo’s mercy. “Or that the back of your ears and neck has turned a lovely shade of pink?” 

Ichigo’s hands pressed on his cheeks once more, spreading them apart and promptly humping a couple more strokes of fabric against his bare entrance. His dick pulsed under him at the abuse; rubbing on the sheets almost painfully with every thrust.

“But don’t worry,” there was a shuffle of fabric, “you can keep pretending all you want.” Ichigo’s now completely bare dick pressed flush between his crack; and his lips mouthed right on his left ear, “I’ll use you either way.”

He thanked the pillow for hiding his recoil so well; or as much of it as it could. He bit down on the soft fabric and held on stubbornly onto the hard edges of the book.

“Don’t stop for me, go on; keep reading.” Ichigo encouraged. Right, he hadn’t lost yet, right?

He straightened his grip and tried to force his mind to settle on one paragraph, on word at least. Fuck. He could hear Ichigo licking and sucking on his own fingers.

“Are you not curious about what happens next?” His voice almost startled him that time, “keep going, I’m sure you’ll enjoy what Dantès still has in store for Villefort.” 

Villefort? Ah, right. _The book._

Grimmjow found that one familiar sentence once more. It felt grounding somehow; but not enough to stop the full body shiver that Ichigo’s cold wet finger elicited, massaging teasingly his perineum and the pink rim of his asshole.

“Actually, maybe you could read it for me?”

Oh, the freckled little dickhead wanted to end him. And he was pushing at his entrance now, finger slowly poking in. He wasn’t about to give in.

“D-Doubt, if you please,” he began panting out the words to his trusty, over-read sentence; just in time for Ichigo to push his finger further in, “but I— I ah-am sure of ...what I say. I saw a wh—ite figure-“

He wasn’t quite sure what it meant anymore— but a quiet sense of dread filled him as he realized Ichigo had been right about the chapter talking about Villefort. All while sporting a heavy hard on.

“an—and as if to prevent my dis— disc— fuck!” Ichigo pressed on his prostate, two fingers now instead of one. When had that happened?

“I’m not sure that’s quite how it goes,” he added, the mocking heavy in his voice. Grimmjow almost bit his tongue off trying to retort, the fingers inside him had picked up speed suddenly. 

Fuck. He could do this.

“-tes—ti —mmhuh—n- ny...” or not, maybe not.

Fuck. Fine— he just wanted to get more than the feeble fondling he was getting.

But Ichigo pulled his fingers away; and he sighed dramatically before the pressure of his back lifted away. Leaving him feeling unusually cold and with a slight panic building up in his lungs.

“You’re right, I’m just crawling back to you after I asked you myself to give me time to study.” Grimmjow could just gape at him, speechless. 

“I should just take a cold shower and get back to it,” he rambled on, pulling up his pants as he stood up from the bed. “The sooner I start the sooner I finish, right?”

His voice was too cheery and calm for someone who’d just spent the past fifteen minutes trying to coerce him into sex.  The book fell flat on the floor, forgotten, as a pale hand shot out to take a fistful of Ichigo’s pants. “FUCK NO.”

He was still laying on his stomach, pants mid thigh exposing flushed asscheeks and legs spread apart just enough to get a peek at the drool leaking down his ass and over his balls.

“You don’t fucking get to _do_ that to me and leave!”

“Oh? I thought that’s what you wanted. You won.” Grimmjow really wanted to punch that mocking little smile right off his face.

“Don’t play coy with me, Kurosaki!” His grip only tightened, lightly pulling him back towards the bed as he spoke.

“Call me Ichigo,” he leaned in suddenly, his face now so close to his own that he could use that low gruff voice once more, “and say please; and you get what you want.”

His eyes widened once more, _what_ exactly had gotten into him and _why_ was it such a big turn on?

“Maybe I should get started on that shower,” he made to leave once more, but Grimmjow’s hold on him pulled him back on reflex.

“NNNG _PLEASE_ , JUST FUCK ME ALREADY, ICHIGO,” he groaned out reluctantly, his face feeling hot enough to leave him a little light-headed.

The proud little smirk on Ichigo’s face nearly made him take it all back, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Fast enough to reveal his own urgency, Ichigo retrieved the small bottle of lube from it’s hiding spot and pulled his pants down as he settled back down on the bed, between the Arrancar’s legs. He quickly squirted a hearty amount of lube into his palm and quickly spread it all over his throbbing cock, hissing quietly at the sudden stimulation. 

Expecting Ichigo to resume his place on top of him, Grimmjow squawked indignantly when his leg was pulled up harshly, forcing him to lay sideways, legs spread wide open.

“Mmmmnhhh— yeesss—“ the ginger moaned loudly as he finally pushed inside him, working his way in gently right until he was filling Grimm to the hilt. His thigh was pressed against his chest, where Ichigo held it, and an arm was hastily thrown over his still overheated face.

Ichigo gave a little thrust, trying to get back Grimmjow’s attention, “Come on, love, let me see your face.”

He frowned at the too-sweet term of endearment, blush not receding, and reluctantly let his arm fall backwards into the pillow. 

“Hope I didn’t tease you too much,” he spoke sincerely this time, even if the little smirk of amusement still adorned his face; he was giving him lazy little thrusts. The bastard was still toying with him, even now.

“Shut the fuck up, you asshole” he snapped back immediately, not quite sure what he felt more irritated about. 

“Oh, I did, didn’t I?” Ichigo’s smirk turned into a full satisfied smile, his fingers caressing his thigh as he thrusted into him with all the calm in the world. 

Grimmjow growled, “Just shut up and move faster already!”

The dumb little grin never left as Ichigo sing-sang, “Yes, Sir~” 

Fucking. Finally!

He gripped his thigh tighter where he’d previously gently touched the skin and pulled it higher and over his shoulder; picking up speed immediately in sharp and strong thrusts. His neglected, and mildly chaffed, dick bouncing a little with each one.

“Hnnnn— fuh—uck~”, it’d been a week since they last did any of this; two since the last time he was on the receiving end. Fuck, he’d _missed_ this. 

And Ichigo must have too if his scrunched up frown and vice grip was any clue; he was biting on his tongue, poked out in mild restrain. Idiot had worked himself up as much as he’d done him.

Two more sharp thrusts and Ichigo leaned forward, bringing his own leg and the ginger’s sweaty face closer so he could finally kiss him. He threaded his free digits through his hair and pulled just enough to make Grimmjow moan loudly against his lips.

Ichigo broke it off only to rest his forehead against his— hips still ramming into him with enough force to make him forget his hold on the pillow under him to throw them over his shoulders; blunt fingernails clawing at tan, freckle-dusted skin.

Each thrust was pushing the air off his lungs, not that there was much of it with the weight of his own leg and Ichigo on top of him either way, and with it hasty little moans huffed between them.

“Nnnnh— moan louder—“ was Ichigo’s throatyrequest. He didn’t have the mind to think of refusing, and just threw his head back and complied.

“Ah! — hah,, Ichi goo,” his arms pulled him closer, forcing the ginger’ face into his neck. “Touch mmm—e”

Ichigo found his forgotten dick trapped between them, and stroked him in time with each last stuttered thrust.

“Fuck— fuck!”

“Gri—mm, I— can..?”

“Yeah —justfuckingdoit,” he muttered back; and, immediately, wet heat filled his insides, ripping his own orgasm from him. Cum all over Ichigo’s fingers and his own stomach.

He was pretty sure he blacked out for a hot second there— until Ichigo let himself pull out and fall unceremoniously next to him. Grimmjow was thankful to not be crushed under his weight anymore; even when his skin shivered at the missing body heat.

Their pants slowly turned into more controlled puffs if air, the gentle breeze from the left ajar window cooling off the sweat and sticky mess over them.

“If I had known that—“ Grimmjow suddenly spoke breathily, “that was all it took to get you to talk like that, I would’ve ignored you sooner.”

Ichigo choked out a hearty chuckle, “I’m not even sure where that came from,” he added. Grimmjow snorted along him this time, filling the musky room with drunken laughter.


End file.
